


Heat

by museaway



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Consent Issues, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pon Farr, Possible Dubious Consent, sweetheart challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-01
Updated: 2014-02-01
Packaged: 2018-01-10 19:57:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1163857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/museaway/pseuds/museaway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"So it'll be intense," Jim said, shrugging. "It's not like we haven't had rough sex before."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heat

**Author's Note:**

> As always, endless thanks to [jouissant](http://archiveofourown.org/users/jouissant) for everything she does (you are a true sweetheart), to [Juno](http://archiveofourown.org/users/junomagic) for her guidance, and to [Jad](http://archiveofourown.org/users/jad) for the title.
> 
>  **Caution:** This story contains what could be interpreted as dubious consent. If that might bother you, please skip this story. Thank you.

"Spock?"

The voice floated to him from somewhere far away, and it made Spock smile. He felt his mouth curve up at the sound of it, at the feeling of a hand which brushed the hair from his forehead and smoothed over his cheek, at the spot in the back of his mind where a warm presence now lingered. He was complete. 

"Spock?"

It came to him again, that same voice. It sounded closer, familiar, but he could see no one near him. He stood in a shapeless gray expanse and blinked into infinity. 

Gradually, the gray space became a landscape, frozen and dusted white. A flock of birds roosted overhead, black darting shapes flying from tree to tree. The snow nestled between thick branches and tree trunks. The air was crisp, but Spock did not shiver. Around him, wind stirred the snow from leafless branches; it swirled and fell like glitter. It came to rest on his hands, which he held outstretched. He watched each snowflake glisten and melt until they had all disappeared, and around him the world was green. 

Spock saw him then, standing at the edge of a field, at the base of a tall farmhouse. He did not wear his uniform or his captain's stripes. He walked toward Spock with a hand outstretched and said, "You're here."

"I will always be here," Spock replied, and they stood shoulder to shoulder, looking up at the sky. 

Spock opened his eyes. 

"Hey," Jim said and smiled at him across the pillow. Jim looked tired, dark smears beneath each eye. "Hey, sweetheart. How're you feeling?"

"Jim?"

"You look better," Jim told him, his voice hoarse. Spock struggled to sit up, but he froze when he saw the bruises on Jim's neck and shoulders. 

"I—" he began, and he reached out to touch them. 

"It's not that bad," Jim said dismissively, though he winced when Spock touched the deep finger-shaped bruises on his collarbone. "Nothing Bones can't heal."

Spock surveyed the landscape of damage he had done to Jim's body, replayed the last three days' events from the map of fingerprint and bite-shaped bruises across his hips, his thighs, his chest and neck. Spock's stomach lurched, and he forced himself from the bed, stumbling into the bathroom. He fell to his knees beside the basin and was sick. He began to rock himself back and forth, back and forth until he felt Jim's warm hands smooth over his back.

"Forgive me," Spock whispered.

"Nothing to forgive," Jim said. 

"I injured you."

"We both knew this wasn't going to be a picnic, and you're not exactly free of bruises yourself," Jim said, his tone light, and he kissed the back of Spock's neck. "Listen, let's grab a shower, order something to eat, and if you still feel bad about it, I'll let you make it up to me."

"How?" Spock asked, turning his head. 

"Blowjob?" Jim suggested and kissed him lightly. "Brush your teeth, and I'll start the water."

"I would prefer a sonic—"

"We're taking a water shower, no arguments," Jim said. "I'm sore as hell, and so are you."

"Yes," Spock conceded. Jim grinned at him through a split lip. Spock closed his eyes when he heard the water begin to fall. 

***

"So it'll be intense," Jim said, shrugging. He lay on his back on Spock's bed. Spock sat stiffly beside him. "It's not like we haven't had rough sex before."

"I have no way of predicting the intensity," Spock said quietly, "nor the duration."

"Look," Jim said, reaching for Spock's hand. "We both knew this was a possibility. I know you were hoping it wouldn't happen to you, but we're going to deal with it."

"I do not..." Spock began and squeezed his eyes closed.

"You don't what?"

It was a minute before Spock answered. He took a breath. "I do not wish for you to see me in that state."

"You've seen me look pretty bad," Jim said. 

"You must understand," Spock implored him, "that for a Vulcan to be stripped of logic is humiliating."

"But it happens to all of you," Jim protested. "It's part of your biology. Frankly, isn't it a little...illogical that you don't talk about it? It's nothing to be ashamed of."

"I do not know how I will behave."

"Then it's good you chose to marry a human," Jim said, "because I don't care. I know that whatever happens this week, it's not you, not really. We'll get through it. And I will still love you when it's over."

"I do not look forward to Dr. McCoy surveying your injuries," Spock confessed.

"We can go to someone else."

"No," Spock murmured. "He will take the best care of you."

"Okay," Jim said. "And don't worry about the hotel, okay? They assured me they're discreet."

"The crew?"

"Belated honeymoon," Jim said. "Let's just pack our bags, beam down, and make use of the privacy lock."

Spock nodded mutely.

"Don't worry," Jim said, sitting up and resting his chin on Spock's shoulder. "It's gonna be okay."

***

"Better?" Jim asked, holding a towel out to Spock and rubbing another one over his hair. His skin had more color, was flushed a healthy pink, a sharp contrast to the constellation of marks across his body. Spock supposed another Vulcan might feel pride in having marked his mate, but Spock looked away. 

"Somewhat," he said. 

"We need to eat," Jim told him. He picked up his comm. Spock waited on the edge of the bed and catalogued the aches throughout his body. He had strained a muscle in his lower back; his left elbow was swollen; and there were hand-shaped bruises circling both of his wrists, as though Jim had tried to force him off. He held his hands up before him and stared at the bruises, trying to remember, but no details surfaced. 

"Stop," Jim said once he had placed their order. He sat next to him on the bed and turned Spock's hands over so the bruises were less apparent. "You can't keep beating yourself up over this. You want to watch a vid?"

Spock shook his head.  "They will deliver the food?"

"That's the beauty of room service," Jim said with a grin.

"They should not see you like this."

"I told them just to leave everything in the front room," Jim said. "I ordered you soup. I hope that's okay."

"That is adequate."

"Maybe we need to get out of this room for a while," Jim said. "We've been cooped up in here for five days."

"I – " Spock hung his head. "I do not believe I could bear to share your attention, just yet."

Jim smiled. "Possessive, huh?" He placed a hand on Spock's shoulder. "I kind of like that," he said. 

"It is an aftereffect of the bonding," Spock said. "It will recede."

"I said I don't mind," Jim said. "I'm yours, and you're mine, right?"

"I believe I require more sleep," Spock said after a pause. He leaned back against the pillows. Jim sighed and placed a hand on Spock's hip.

"Okay," he said "I'll let you sleep while I wait for the food."

Jim shifted as though he would rise from the bed. Spock desperately reached out a hand and kneaded Jim's thigh.

"Stay with me," he begged.

Jim smiled at him a little sadly. But he kissed him and stretched out alongside Spock on the bed, closing his eyes.

***

"Would you look at this place?" Jim exclaimed, turning around where he stood in the center of the room. Spock supposed it _was_ impressive. It was larger than either of their cabins on board the ship, and he suspected Jim had paid for an upgrade from a standard suite. The room overlooked the bay, and Spock could discern people moving along the beach fourteen stories below.

"If you wish to see the attractions," Spock said, coming to stand beside Jim at the window, "I would advise we do so now."

"You've got a point," Jim said scratching his forehead. "I guess we won't be doing much sightseeing for the next week."

"There is still time to change your mind," Spock said quietly. "I would not think less of you."

"No way," Jim said furiously. "You're not going through this with anyone else."

"The meditation could suffice," Spock said carefully. "It is possible that it is all I will require."

"Will you stop worrying about me?" Jim said. He gripped Spock's forearm tightly. "I knew what I was getting myself into when I agreed to marry you, okay? Stop trying to talk me out of this."

"Jim," Spock said quietly. "I do not know what I would do if I lost you again."

"You are _not going to lose me_ again," Jim said. He wrapped his hand around the back of Spock's neck and kissed him hard. "I love you. Everything is going to be fine, okay? Everything is going to be fine."

Spock whispered "yes" against his lips. Jim stepped back and smiled, but took hold of his hand. 

"Good," he said. "Now let's go down to the beach so I can at least _pretend_ to get a tan, and then we'll come back up here and wait for you to go into the – what's it called?"

"The plak tow," Spock said, almost a whisper.

"Right," Jim said. "Do you have your room key?"

"It is in my pocket," Spock told him.

"Come on," Jim said and led him toward the door.

***

When Spock awoke, Jim was no longer in bed. He sat in a chair with his knees drawn to his chest, chin resting upon them, staring out the window. He had his left hand draped over the arm of the chair, and he spun the black band around and around his ring finger. The back of his neck was smudged black and purple, receding into his hair. The sight made Spock ache.  

"Jim?" he asked, and Jim whipped his head around, catching Spock's eyes. The dark circles beneath his eyes were diminished, his split lip healed. His stare was blank, lost, but after a few seconds he smiled. 

"I put your food in the fridge," he said. "Do you want me to heat it up?"

"I will do it," Spock said.

"Let me," Jim told him and stood up. He had dressed in loose-fitting pants and a white shirt which covered his arms to the wrist. His gait was irregular, an unsteady shuffle. Spock had not noticed that before. When Jim returned with the soup, he set it on the nightstand and sat down gingerly on the edge of the mattress.

"You need medical attention," Spock said.

"If I don't feel better in a day, I'll have Bones stitch me up," Jim said. He blushed slightly and averted his eyes. "I used the handheld regenerator he sent with us while you were asleep. I didn't get all the damage, but it's...a lot better than it was."

"Do you require assistance?"

"Thanks, but no. Eat, okay? You haven't eaten in days. I know you're hungry."

Spock ate to please Jim, and not for himself. It was necessary to eat, he told himself, but he had no appetite. He sipped from the bowl of soup Jim held to his mouth. Spock rested a hand on Jim's thigh, but he felt little through their skin. Jim was...shielding from him? Spock was unable to swallow another mouthful, pushing the bowl away. The remaining soup sloshed over the side and stained the bedding.

"I'll call for new sheets," Jim said and set the bowl down, mopping up what he could with a napkin. "We should get them changed anyway. It's ripe in here. Mind if I open the window?"

Spock indicated that he did not, and Jim left his side again, leaving Spock feeling cold and alone though they were together in the room.

***

"God, you're actually warmer than me for once," Jim said, placing his hand on Spock's forehead for the sixth time. He pulled the blankets higher on Spock's chest, but Spock continued to tremble. "Are you sure I can't get you anything?"

"No," Spock said breathlessly, shaking his head. He curled his fingers into the layers of bedsheets. "We can only wait."

Jim looked at him despondently, framing Spock's face in his hands and kissing him. 

"I'm not afraid," he whispered, but his voice shook. 

Spock began to think in fragments, his thoughts darting rapidly, with no clear pattern. He _wanted_ , and he wanted Jim, and he could smell the fear rolling off of him. He could smell a woman's perfume wafting beneath the door from the room across the hall. He could hear the screaming laughter of children playing around the hotel pool fourteen stories below. Children. Perhaps he would have children one day, with Jim. The heat in Spock's body surged, and he began to feel the slow build of the blood fever. Jim's body was warm and so, so close, and Spock wished to bury himself in it, to claim what was his. He would claim Jim as Vulcans had claimed their mates for thousands of years, in the primal way of his people. His fingers sought out Jim's meld points, and he heard Jim gasp as he sunk into his mind without warning.

Jim's mind was cool and soothing, and for a moment Spock found clarity there. His thoughts were once again linear, rational, as though he were taking form again from a pool of molten copper. He tasted the iron tang of human blood and realized, too late, that he had bitten Jim, was continuing to bite him, was laving his mouth as the fever overtook him. And Jim was moaning, whimpering faintly against Spock's lips, grasping Spock's shirt tightly, struggling to keep himself at elbow's length. Jim's forearms were tight, his body tense, neck muscles strained as Spock's hands slid to knot in his hair, the meld abandoned.

The last thought Spock had before the fever dragged him under was that when all of this was over, Jim would be his. Jim would always belong to him.

***

Spock did not sleep. He rolled onto his side and watched Jim breathing, studied the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. It would be simple to enter Jim's mind. Spock no longer required the meld to do so. He had only to close his eyes, to imagine himself there, and he and Jim would be together even in sleep. 

But he did not. He maintained a distance, did not even allow his hand to touch Jim's, though he aligned them on the mattress. Sarek had warned Spock that Jim might react this way following the pon farr, that the human brain was incapable of totally separating the violence from the person; that while Jim would remember that Spock loved him, he would be unable to forget the atrocities done to him which Spock could not remember. 

"You must give him time," Sarek had cautioned. "A Vulcan can understand, but a human..."

Spock recalled a long visit his mother made to her sister on Earth when he was seven years old, and now he understood. 

He would wait. He would be patient. He would regain Jim's trust. He scooted closer to Jim's body, curving as Jim lay curved, so they were only inches away in parallel positions. He fell asleep exhaling against Jim's back but did not touch him. 

When Spock woke in the night, Jim was sitting up, turned away from him. In the moonlight, Spock could see that his face was wet. He dared to touch Jim's shoulder. 

"I'm sorry," Jim whispered. "I don't know why I feel like this."

"Do you require assurance of my affection?"

Jim shrugged and shook his head. 

"May I touch you?"

"Of course you can touch me," Jim said, turning and pressing his face into Spock's neck. "I never wanted you to stop."

"You shielded from me," Spock told him. "I thought—"

"We both need to stop thinking," Jim said. "Just hold me for a while."

Spock did not sleep the rest of the night. He lay awake, stroking Jim's hair where he lay asleep pillowed on Spock's chest. 

***

The madness was a kaleidoscope of images and sounds: Jim crying out beneath him, Jim's skin flecked with blood, and then blackness. 

Spock's fists pounding against the bathroom door; the thud, thud, thud until the door creaked open and Jim's face was revealed, swollen and tear-streaked. Fire coursed beneath his skin. Spock took Jim against the wall, and— 

They were lying on the bed. Jim's eyes were closed. He breathed through his mouth, and Spock rolled him over, crushed his body into Jim's bruised back and legs, and they were—

Standing in the center of the room. Jim's hands circled his wrists, and he was begging " _please don't, please don't, please.._." There was blood on his thighs. Jim stumbled, and Spock was—

Holding him down on the couch with one hand while Jim silently mouthed his name. His face was wet. He never screamed, and— 

Spock heard the distant sound of a voice calling to him through a void.

***

"I understand why you didn't want me to see you like that," Jim said over the rim of his coffee mug. They were in bed, with the curtains open, and the warm Risian sunlight spilled onto their laps. Jim curled his toes in the air and flexed his feet, and when he turned to look at Spock, he sighed. 

"Do you regret it?" Spock asked, bowing his head and staring into his cup of tea. 

"No," Jim said. "Do you?"

"No," Spock whispered. 

"You were...frightening. I didn't realize it would be like that." 

Jim paused and drank his coffee, swishing it around his teeth in the habit Spock had grown to know well. He swallowed and leaned back against the headboard. He closed his eyes, and Spock could feel Jim pushing at the bond which hummed between them steadily, not the thin filament it had been when Spock first forged it, but strong and unyielding. 

"But this?" Jim continued, pushing at it again. "This feels pretty cool."

"You honor me," Spock said. "To claim you as my own...I never believed I would feel happiness, that it was possible."

Jim set down his mug and took Spock's from him, and held both of Spock's hands between his. 

"I think," he said slowly, "we'd both feel a lot better if we had sex."

"You are still injured," Spock protested.

"Please," Jim said. "Just....I need this."

Spock lowered his head, but he agreed and gathered Jim in his arms. Jim winced when Spock's hands came to rest on his waist, hissing in a breath, but he ground his hips down as encouragement. Jim straddled his lap, and Spock stroked them both as Jim clutched at his shoulders. They rocked together slowly. 

"I love you," Jim murmured into his ear. "I love you _so much_."

"Jim," Spock whispered, and there had never been a more beautiful word. 

They both smiled afterwards, fingers tangled together on the bed between them. Spock pulled the sheet over Jim's shoulders, and they looked at one another. 

"Every seven years, huh?" Jim said. Spock shook his head. 

"I will go to the colony and seek out a healer," he said and squeezed Jim's hands. 

"No, you won't." Jim grinned into the pillow. "We'll do this again, and we'll be...better prepared for it." His fingers tightened around Spock's, and his emotions were once again palpable. Whatever shields he had raised were gone. Spock closed his eyes and soaked up the feeling of Jim's katra all around him. 

"You are happy," Spock observed.

"Don't sound so surprised," Jim said and laughed. It echoed in the room, in the space between them, in the warm place in Spock's mind. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! You can also find me on [Tumblr](http://museaway.tumblr.com) and [Livejournal](http://museaway.livejournal.com). Keep an eye on [Hey, Sweetheart](http://heysweetheart.livejournal.com/) for more fic & art for this challenge.


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